


Lamb in the Wood

by idoltina



Series: Run on Fumes [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Character Death, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mental Health Issues, Other, Postpartum Depression, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2011-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:10:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years after New Directions graduates from William McKinley High School, Kurt and Blaine share an apartment in New York. In the early hours of the morning, a phone call from Quinn rocks their world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lamb in the Wood

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings (if any):** Character death, language, mental illness, mentions of sex

**June 2018: West Village, New York**

Blaine wakes up rather grumpily to his cell phone ringing on the nightstand. Kurt groans next to him; Blaine mumbles an apology and fumbles blindly for the phone. “'Lo?” he asks sleepily.

“Blaine.”

Blaine rubs his eyes, his mind trying to play catch up. “Quinn?” Blaine blinks and Kurt murmurs next to him. “Quinn, what's going on?”

“Artie...”

Blaine shifts, untangling himself from Kurt and propping himself up a little. “Is he okay? His surgery was this morning, wasn't it?”

“Yes,” Quinn whispers quietly, and Blaine recognizes the tone in her voice, hears how shallow her breathing is. He knows she's crying and fighting it all at once.

“Did it not go well?” Blaine asks gently. “I thought it'd be too soon to tell --”

“I wouldn't know,” Quinn says quickly, and Blaine's stomach tightens at the way the words rush and fall out of her mouth. “I don't know if it would've worked or not.”

“Wait,” Blaine says, rubbing his temple in frustration. It's too early to talk in circles with his best friend like this. “Did he not go through with it, then?”

“No, he did,” Quinn chokes out, and Blaine can tell it's getting harder and harder for her to fight the tears. His stomach twists a little more. “But it wouldn't have matter if he did or not --”

“Quinn, what are you --”

“A blood clot,” she says quietly, and her voice sounds hollow and distant. “In his brain.” Blaine sucks in a breath. “It wouldn't have mattered. There -- there was nothing they could do.”

Blaine sits up, fully awake now, and Kurt turns to look at him blearily. Blaine swallows thickly, fighting to speak. “So he's --”

“He's gone,” Quinn says so quietly that Blaine almost misses it, and then she starts to sob uncontrollably.

Blaine closes his eyes and his heart sinks. He has to will himself to speak. “Oh, Quinn,” he breathes. “Honey, I'm so sorry --” Kurt sits up now too, rubbing at Blaine's arm, his brow furrowed sleepily in confusion.

“Can you --” Quinn starts and then stops, sniffing loudly. Blaine's chest _aches_. “I know you were planning on flying out in a few months, but --”

“We'll come now,” Blaine assures her quickly. “I'll change our flight and tell you what time we'll land. I'll be there, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Quinn whispers back.

“What's wrong?” Kurt asks once Blaine's hung up.

Blaine looks at him, chest seizing, and he doesn't even know where to begin, how to break this to him. He draws in a breath, reaches out for Kurt's arm, and says gently, “Artie didn't make it through the surgery.”

Kurt blinks, his jaw falling open a little. “Wh -- what?” he asks, his voice breaking a little.

“I'm so sorry,” Blaine breathes, squeezing Kurt's arm a little harder, and then Kurt is crying, curling into Blaine and clutching at his neck tightly.

“How?” Kurt finally mumbles into Blaine's neck, tears still falling steadily.

“Blood clot,” Blaine says, swallowing thickly. “Quinn wants --”

Kurt pulls away abruptly, eyes wide. “Oh, Quinn,” he says guiltily. “Is she -- is she okay? Is the baby okay?”

“As far as I know,” Blaine answers, and his chest trembles and aches as he fights off the tears. “She wants us to come out early --”

“Of course -- of course she does,” Kurt babbles, wiping his eyes and untangling himself from the sheets. “Um -- okay, what should we -- we should --”

“Kurt,” Blaine says gently, tugging him back into bed. “Kurt, hang on a second. You're allowed to _grieve_.”

“I can grieve on the plane,” Kurt snaps, and Blaine recoils a little even though he _knows_ this is Kurt's defense mechanism, Kurt trying not to _hurt_ so much.

Blaine leans forward and runs a hand down Kurt's cheek; Kurt freezes at the touch, breath coming out in small gasps and eyes welling with tears again. “Kurt...”

“Give me something to do,” Kurt breathes. “I can't -- I'll deal with this, I promise. I just- not now. There are things to do and I'm going to have plenty of time on that plane for it to hit me and _please just give me something to do_.”

Blaine bites his lip but nods, hand dropping down to rub at Kurt's knee. “Tell Rachel.”

Kurt blinks, surprised. “Oh,” he says quietly. “I hadn't thought of that.”

“Get dressed,” Blaine instructs. “Drive over and tell her and help her pack, and then bring her back here and we'll all go to JFK together, okay? I'll pack for us and change our flight.”

Kurt obeys and Blaine knows he's grateful for something to do, for a mission, a plan, a distraction. Blaine settles down at his laptop as Kurt gets dressed, and then Kurt is just _on him_ , hugging and kissing and grabbing every inch of Blaine within reach. When he lets go, they're both breathless and Kurt is just _staring_ at him like Blaine's going to disappear if he blinks or looks away. “I'll be here when you get back,” Blaine murmurs against him. “I promise.”

*****

**June 2013: Residence Hall, NYU**

_Blaine picks up the phone and dials; Quinn's voice comes out hushed on the other end. “Blaine?”_

_“Kurt and I got into a fight.” He knows he can't keep the sound of his tears out of his voice but he doesn't care because this is what they are, this is what Quinn is here for._

_“Oh my god, honey, okay, hang on, let me step outside --” Blaine hears the click of a door and the echoes of footsteps before Quinn's voice comes back on the line. “What happened?” she breathes._

_“I don't even know,” Blaine says miserably. “I just -- I don't want to talk about it. I just... I wanted to hear your voice.”_

_There's silence on the other end for a minute. “I'm sorry,” she says finally. “I'm sorry you're hurting.”_

_“I feel like I should be the one apologizing for keeping you up,” Blaine laughs half-heartedly, glancing at his alarm clock. “But then I remember that you're three hours behind. Is it raining there?_

_He can hear Quinn's smile through the phone. “No, it's --” She hesitates. “Yeah, it's probably raining in Seattle.”_

_“Wait, where are you then?” Blaine asks, puzzled. “Why aren't you in Seattle? Don't you have finals next week?”_

_“No, actually.” There's something in Quinn's tone that Blaine can't quite make out. “I, uh, finished early.”_

_“Oh,” Blaine says brightly. “Are you already back in Ohio, then?”_

_“No, I'm going next week, like I planned.”_

_Blaine's brow furrows in confusion. “Wait, where are you?”_

_There's a long silence on the other end before Quinn answers. “I took the train down to Berkeley. Artie and I are flying back Ohio together next week.”_

_“Oh,” Blaine says simply. “Well that's good, then. I know you didn't get to see each other as often as you wanted this semester, so it's nice that you get some time together before we're in Ohio for the summer -- wait. Where are you staying?” When Quinn doesn't answer, Blaine's eyes widen and his jaw hangs slack as the realization hits him. “Holy shit. You had sex with Artie, didn't you?”_

_Quinn makes a disparaging noise and groans into the phone. “Blaine --”_

_“Holy shit!” Blaine exclaims, sitting up in bed for the first time in hours. “I -- okay, details, now.”_

_“You're acting like I planned this,” Quinn snaps, but Blaine can hear her laughing quietly on the other end and fuck, he misses her. Yeah, he's friends with Finn and Rachel but he expects them to take Kurt's side; right now, Blaine's alone here, alone until he gets back to Ohio next week, alone until his best friend becomes more than a voice on the phone and a face on his laptop screen._

_“Maybe you didn't,” Blaine concedes. “But the fact remains that I clearly interrupted something with my mess of a life --”_

_“Don't say that,” Quinn interjects harshly. “Don't -- I know you're hurting right now but it's not a chore to listen to your problems. I don't feel obligated to be your friend, Blaine.”_

_Blaine fights back fresh tears and clutches his phone a little tighter, curling back up under his comforter. “So you went to spend time with Artie before going home and?” he prompts. It's a relief to escape into someone else's drama right now._

_“And the rest is none of your business,” Quinn says coyly._

_“Oh come on, so unfair,” Blaine whines. “I told you more than this when Kurt and I --” He snaps his mouth shut, unable to continue._

_“Go talk to him,” Quinn pleads. “I hate to see you like this.”_

_“You can't see me,” Blaine corrects._

_“See, hear, know. I don't care what you want to call it, Blaine. I thought this was a you-cry-on-my-shoulder kind of thing,” she reminds him._

_“It is,” Blaine enthuses. “Isn't that what I'm doing?”_

_“Yes, but --” Quinn starts, and then there's a soft knock on Blaine's door._

_“Hang on,” he says to Quinn, clambering to his feet and wrenching open his dorm room door._

_“Can we talk?” Kurt murmurs quietly._

_Blaine stares at him for a minute and then nods. “I'll call you back,” Blaine promises Quinn breathlessly._

_Kurt hurtles himself into Blaine's arms just as the door swings shut, and then Blaine is breathing out, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around Kurt, relishing in the feel, the smell, Kurt --_

_“I'm sorry,” Kurt breathes._

_“It was a dumb fight,” Blaine says. “It's over, it's done. Let's just -- will you stay tonight?”_

_Kurt pulls back a little, arching an eyebrow playfully. “Don't you have a final tomorrow?”_

_“Yes, and so do you,” Blaine points out. “I still want you here.”_

_Kurt rests his forehead against Blaine's. “I'm tired,” he admits. “Can we just -- I don't know, can we just sleep for awhile?”_

_“Sure,” Blaine agrees, pulling him down onto the mattress. “I'll still be here when you wake up.”_

_Kurt sleeps curled up into Blaine's side and chest but Blaine stays awake, stroking Kurt's hair and letting his breathing even out. He remembers his admission to Quinn -- I'm gonna marry him someday -- and smiles down at Kurt._

_He sends Quinn a text a while later -- we made up, call you tomorrow -- and feels a little more grateful._

*****

**June 2018: American Airlines Flight 269**

“Do you remember,” Rachel says wistfully from the window seat, “when New Directions only had five members, and you and Artie were the only boys?”

“Biggest bunch of misfits ever,” Kurt says with a small grin from the middle seat. “I remember Tina being pissed at me for almost dropping her.”

“And Mercedes couldn't get the choreography down,” Rachel laughs into her hands.

“And Artie,” Kurt starts and then stops, and they're quiet for a minute. “Artie rolled into the wall.” They exchange a look and then they're laughing _hysterically_ ; Blaine watches them tentatively from his aisle seat, confused. Kurt catches his eyes and rests his hand on top of Blaine's reassuringly. “No, honey, it was hilarious,” he insists. “We were _terrible_.”

Blaine smiles a little. “How'd you ever get anyone else to join up?”

“You know,” Kurt says thoughtfully, “I don't know. Finn just showed up one day and that was that. Rachel, did he ever --” he starts, turning to her.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “He never did explain why he joined up so suddenly.” She looks like she wants to say more but seems to decide against it and shrinks back into her seat, casting her eyes out the window. “Artie was nice to me,” she says quietly after a while. “He didn't seem to find me as... irritating as the rest of you.”

Kurt laughs and bumps his shoulder against Rachel's. “He called you irritating to your face,” he reminds her. “He only said that you shouldn't take it personally.”

“Meaning he didn't mean it personally. He was being objective,” Rachel says defensively, but she's smiling again.

Quiet settles over them for a while before Kurt nudges Blaine. “Your turn.”

It takes Blaine a second to register Kurt's request, and he has to think for a minute, but then he smiles and laughs a little. “Senior year,” he says definitively. “When we did our duet for glee club.”

“ _Wordplay_!” Rachel exclaims excitedly, almost bouncing in her seat. “Oh, sing it again, please Blaine --”

“On a plane?” Blaine laughs.

“Yes!” she insists. “Come on, Kurt and I will sing it with you --”

“No!” Kurt laughs. “I'll harmonize, but I'd like to stay on this plane until it touches down in Seattle, thanks.”

Rachel looks at Blaine expectantly but he bites his lip and shakes his head. “Doesn't feel right without him,” he says quietly.

Rachel's lip trembles but she resigns, sinking back into her seat and returning her gaze to the clouds outside. Kurt scoots down and rests his head against Blaine's shoulder. “I'm sorry,” Blaine says quietly.

“Don't be,” Kurt says, intertwining his fingers with Blaine's. “We're just... looking for a reason to be happy. And on a plane on the way to a friend's funeral, that's hard to do.”

“I'm still here,” Blaine murmurs after a minute. “And Quinn, and the baby, and --”

Kurt turns and cuts him off with a full kiss on the mouth, loud and breathy; a few people turn to stare but when they pull apart, Blaine sees Rachel shooting them all daggers, daring them to say something. Awkwardly, their neighbors return to their magazines and books and laptops, and Rachel smiles sadly at them. “The world could use a little more love,” is all she says.

Rachel falls asleep after a while, and Kurt mumbles into Blaine's shoulder sleepily. “You realize we're going to have to make this flight again in two months, right? For when the baby is born?”

“I know,” Blaine sighs. “But I'm going to make it.”

“No, I know,” Kurt interjects, backpedaling. “That's not what I meant- I'm not- of course we'll come back out.” A pause, and then, “I'm just saying I don't know if I can handle another flight with Rachel Berry.”

Blaine chuckles silently, his chest vibrating against Kurt's cheek. “She might be more mellow next time,” he offers.

“She's upset,” Kurt says softly.

“We all are,” Blaine empathizes. He pauses for a moment before venturing, “Still need distractions?”

Kurt doesn't answer for a long time, and Blaine almost thinks he's fallen asleep when Kurt finally answers, “No. I just -- you understand why this is so hard for me, right?”

“I do,” Blaine says quietly. “And I don't know how you do it. I don't know how you're this strong. I can't even imagine how much you're _hurting_ , what it must be like to be reminded --”

“It hurts,” Kurt agrees. “But I'm trying not to focus on it too much. I just -- we're all going to be grieving together when we get there,” he explains. “And what I've learned from death is that it's okay to be sad but you can't let it swallow you. Does that make sense?”

“Sleep now, cry later, orchestrate a funeral,” Blaine sorts out. “Is that your plan?”

“Something like that.” Kurt brings their linked hands up to his lips and kisses Blaine's knuckles. “As long as you're still here when I wake up.”

“Always,” Blaine promises.

*****

**November 2011: William McKinley High School, Lima, Ohio**

_“Hey.”_

_Startled, Blaine looks up from his seat in the library to find Artie wheeling toward him. “Hey,” he greets cheerfully. “What's up?”_

_“Can I ask you something? Bro to bro?”_

_Blaine fights back a laugh. “Um, yeah. Go for it.” He resists the urge to add 'Bro.'_

_“What's going on with you and Quinn?” Artie's gaze is intense and fixed upon him, but Blaine doesn't falter._

_“We're friends,” Blaine says slowly, brow furrowing._

_“Yeah, I got that,” Artie says, and Blaine can tell he's fighting to be patient, calm, rational. “I've heard that before.”_

_“Artie,” Blaine cuts in. “I'm gay. Quinn and I -- we both have boyfriends. There's nothing between us.” Well, that's a lie, straight off, because there is something between them but it's completely platonic. The something is more a you're-the-friend-I've-needed-my-whole-life kind of connection, but somehow Blaine knows that telling Artie this won't make a difference._

_“I've heard that before too,” Artie says quietly, and he looks like he wants to say more but he bites his lip and is silent._

_“You've been burned a lot, haven't you?” Blaine asks gently._

_“I -- look, I'm not saying I'm a saint,” Artie reasons. “I messed up. I didn't have my priorities straight with Tina, and I was out of line with Brittany --”_

_“They're still your friends,” Blaine reminds him. “Things are fine between you guys.”_

_“Still,” Artie argues, “I haven't had the best of luck when it comes to girls and --”_

_“You're tired of being left for someone else,” Blaine finishes. “Tina and Mike, Brittany and Santana --”_

_“Yeah, but like you said, it's all cool now. I mean, Mike's my best friend, yo --”_

_“Still hurts,” Blaine says, and the tension starts to dissipate. “I promise you, what Quinn and I have, it's -- you don't have anything to worry about.”_

_“Can I --” Artie hesitates, and Blaine raises an eyebrow expectantly. “Rachel?”_

_Blaine laughs. “Failed experiment in heterosexuality. Or bisexuality. Whatever. The point is, one hundred percent gay,” he assures Artie, pointing his thumbs at himself. Artie nods but still looks uncomfortable, unsure. “What are you so worried about?”_

_Artie looks at him guiltily. “Quinn doesn't exactly have the greatest track record --”_

_“Hey,” Blaine says, cutting him off. “Unfair. That is so, so unfair.”_

_“Don't get me wrong, man,” Artie says, throwing his hands up defensively. “I like her -- a lot. But who she was the last couple of years -- that's a different person.”_

_“Exactly,” Blaine enthuses. “She's not a saint either. Yeah, she cheated and was kind of a bitch but the point is that she's not that person anymore, Artie. And you know that. You wouldn't be dating her if you didn't.”_

_“I know,” Artie says quietly, his hands fidgeting. “I -- she's great, now. She's sweet and smart and funny and --”_

_“Into you,” Blaine says. “She's into you. And you know why? Because you see the real her. You looked past the person she was the last two years and saw her. That means something to her.”_

_“Girls like her don't date guys like me,” Artie says miserably. “I just feel like it's going to be Brittany all over again --”_

_“Quinn's not Brittany.” Artie looks at him gratefully. “Give her a chance. See this through. You're the first guy who's really cared about her, been able to really relate to her --”_

_“Other than you,” Artie interjects._

_“Romantically,” Blaine clarifies. “You're not like anyone she's ever dated before.”_

_“I'm not,” Artie agrees._

_“You're better.” Artie blinks, grins, and offers his hand up for a fist bump. He starts to wheel away when Blaine calls after him. “Hey, were you going to sing in glee club this week?”_

_“I hadn't planned on it,” Artie says, shrugging. “Why?”_

_“Because I think,” Blaine says as a grin spreads slowly across his face, “I have something we could do.”_

*****

**June 2018: Northwest Hospital and Medical Center, Seattle, Washington**

Blaine runs a hand through his hair anxiously while Kurt sits by his side, rubbing his shoulder gently. “Mr. Anderson?” All three of them look up to find a doctor standing in front of them; Blaine nods in acknowledgment. “I don't know how much the nurse told you --”

“Not much,” Blaine says quickly. He remembers Quinn's text when he got off the plane -- _baby's early._

“She's only thirty weeks, but --” Blaine holds his breath. “There might be problems -- the umbilical cord might be constricting the airway. We're going to have to perform a C-section.” Blaine closes his eyes in agony. “Mrs. Abrams said she wanted you with her, when you arrived.”

“No, of course --” Blaine rushes out quickly, fumbling to his feet. Kurt kisses him on the cheek before he leaves, and Rachel moves across the room to take Blaine's empty seat and Kurt's vacant hand. Blaine follows the doctor down the hall and changes into scrubs quickly, washing his hands raw. When he steps into the room, he finds half a dozen doctors and nurses milling around, speaking in low tones; the room is dimly lit and full of machines and Quinn is alone behind the curtain. Blaine swallows; she must be _terrified._

“Try and calm her down, will you?” the doctor murmurs in Blaine's ear. “Her heart rate is elevated and that's really not good for either of them.”

Blaine nods and swallows again as he fights to control his trembling hands; he sits on a stool and scoots up next to Quinn. “Hey,” he says gently, reaching out to brush the hair from her eyes.

Quinn breathes out and turns to face him, her eyes coming into focus when she sees Blaine's face. “Blaine,” she chokes out. “Blaine, you're _here_ \--”

“Yeah, I'm here,” he murmurs, stroking her hair. “I'm here. You've got to calm down, honey. The doctor said it's not good for you or the baby.”

“I -- I can't,” she stammers, and she starts to cry in earnest, tears falling out of the corners of her eyes back into her hair.

Blaine lets his lips fall to her forehead. “Honey, you have to try. The baby's not going to be okay if you don't. Try, please. For me. For -- for Artie.”

Quinn cries a little harder. “Artie's gone,” she sobs.

Blaine nods, clasping her hand and pressing his lips more firmly against her forehead. “Artie's gone,” he affirms, “but I'm here.”

Quinn's sobs start to taper off and quiet, and she clutches Blaine's hand tightly as she draws in a breath to steady herself. “Please don't leave me,” she whispers.

“I'm right here,” Blaine murmurs against her ear. “Right here.” He repeats the mantra over and over again as the minutes tick by and slowly, they both stop shaking.

“It's a boy,” comes a voice from the other side of the curtain.

Blaine smiles against her ear. “A boy, did you hear that?”

Quinn's quiet for a moment before she answers. “Why isn't he crying?”

Blaine _panics_ because he doesn't have an answer to that question and why _isn't_ the baby crying and -- _fuck_ , he knew it was too early. He finds himself praying to the god Quinn believes in to hear a sound, anything, because if the baby doesn't make it, Quinn won't either. She can't handle any more loss --

A cry fills the room, and Blaine rests his head against Quinn's. “There,” he soothes, and his body is trembling again but he doesn't care, can't care, because he has to be here for Quinn right now. “He's crying now, can you hear him?”

Quinn nods and laughs and cries again, her body finally starting to relax against the mattress. “Lungs are underdeveloped,” a voice murmurs from the other side.

Blaine winces but doesn't let Quinn see, doesn't let her hear, because her son -- her _son_ \-- is alive and breathing and that's all she needs to know to hold on right now. It's a few moments before anyone says much else and Blaine listens with strained ears, desperate to be a filter for Quinn. One of the nurses lays a hand on his shoulder reassuringly and smiles. “He's going to be fine,” she says. “Just a tiny baby who might have a little trouble breathing for a while. He'll be fine.”

Blaine exhales and leans back to Quinn. “Healthy,” he says softly. “He's fine. Just early and a little underdeveloped.”

Quinn smiles but Blaine can see her fighting to keep her eyes open, dark circles marring her face, her pretty, pretty face. One of the nurses comes around the curtain a moment later and suddenly the baby is just there, in front of them, red-faced and squirming and whining but perfect, so perfect. Quinn laughs again and cries a little more, unable to tear her eyes away. “Do you want to hold him now?” the nurse offers.

But Quinn shakes her head. “I don't think I can.” So the nurse deposits the baby in Blaine's arms and -- _whoa_. Okay, that's new. Blaine feels winded and a little -- a lot -- overwhelmed and there are tears springing at his eyes and _this isn't even his son_. “You look like you've never seen a baby before,” Quinn laughs quietly.

“I --” Blaine can't even _talk_ and seriously, what is _wrong_ with him? There's a lump in his throat and he actually is crying now and the baby is warm, so warm and Quinn's, all Quinn's -- “I just can't believe you did this,” he says. “Like, you made a baby.”

“Not the first time,” Quinn reminds him quietly. Blaine looks up at her and any trace of joy is long gone from her face; her eyes are sunken in, distant, hollow, and the tears that come do so without feeling.

Blaine blinks, alarmed, and shifts the baby back into the nurse's arms. “Quinn?”

“'M okay,” she murmurs, closing her eyes.

Blaine rests his hand over hers. He has to keep her talking. “You pick out a name yet?”

“Liam,” she hums. Her eyes flutter again and her eyes struggle to find Blaine's. “I -- Artie,” she keens, and Blaine's heart breaks. He struggles to find words, can't do anything but grasp her hand tighter, and then there's a steady, high-pitched sound --

Blaine cries out Quinn's name as nurses pull him away and set him in the hallway and he's _helpless_ , unable to move or speak or fix anything. All he can do is stand there and watch his best friend almost _die_ right before his eyes. Blaine sinks to the floor and cries into his knees, vision blurred and heart aching.

*****

**March 2016: Northwest Hospital and Medical Center, Seattle, Washington**

_“Mr. Anderson?” Blaine looks up, muscles heavy and worn, and finds a nurse addressing him._

_“Yeah, that's me,” Blaine says, far more eager than he probably should. “Quinn -- is she okay --”_

_“I can take you to see her,” is all the nurse says. “She's in curtain eight, but we're moving her to a room soon.”_

_When she holds open the curtain for Blaine, the air becomes stale and the temperature drops ten degrees; Quinn looks pale, so pale, too pale --_

_“What's wrong with her?” Blaine chokes out._

_“The doctor will be in shortly to explain the situation,” the nurse says unhelpfully. “Make yourself comfortable.”_

_So Blaine does, but it's hard to be comfortable in an awkwardly designed chair next to your best friend's hospital bed. Quinn's asleep -- or unconscious, Blaine's not sure which -- which doesn't really provide him with a lot of answers. So Blaine does the only thing he can, which is hold Quinn's hand and stroke her hair and worry, wait._

_When the doctor finally does come in -- a full half hour later -- Blaine can't find it in himself to be angry; he wants answers, he wants them to take care of Quinn, but he's too exhausted to want more than that, to feel more than that. “Oh,” the doctor says when he catches sight of Blaine. “They -- the nurse mentioned there was someone with her; are you the boyfriend, or --”_

_“Uh, no,” Blaine says awkwardly. “Her fiance's in California. I'm just a friend.”_

_“Hmm,” the doctor muses. “Well, I -- can you run through it, tell me what happened, exactly?”_

_“She wasn't feeling well,” Blaine rushes out. “That was obvious the minute she met me at the airport.”_

_“Oh,” the doctor says awkwardly. “So you're not from around here --”_

_“No,” Blaine says. “I live in New York. I came out for a visit.”_

_“Okay, so she met you at the airport,” the doctor recaps. “She wasn't feeling well. Did she say what was wrong?”_

_“Cramps,” Blaine says. “She said it was nothing, she'd be fine tomorrow. But it just got worse --”_

_The doctor nods. “So she assumed she was menstruating, then.”_

_“Um, yeah, I guess so,” Blaine answers, rubbing the back of his neck, and wow, this conversation could not get any more awkward._

_“Perfectly normal,” the doctor says, but it doesn't clarify anything; if anything, Blaine just has more questions. “Go on.”_

_“We were at the apartment for awhile and she went up to use the bathroom,” Blaine continues, and his stomach heaves at the memory. “And then she was on the floor and there was just blood everywhere,” he breathes out, fighting back tears. “Please just -- what's wrong with her?”_

_The doctor shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “She's not awake right now, it's not exactly appropriate for me to --”_

_“I'm awake.”_

_Blaine whips around to look at Quinn; her eyes remain closed but she squeezes Blaine's hand and shifts uncomfortably in the bed. “Quinn,” he breathes, leaning toward her in earnest._

_“Just tell him,” Quinn says. “There's nothing you have to tell me that I won't tell him.”_

_There's a pause, and then, “Your medical file says you've been pregnant once before, Ms. Fabray.”_

_Quinn's eyes snap open and she turns to look at the doctor. “What does that have to do with anything?” Blaine swallows thickly._

_“A lot, actually,” the doctor says patiently. “I don't know if you realized, Ms. Fabray, but you were about eight weeks along --”_

_“No,” Quinn says, her voice dangerously low. “No. I'm not -- there is no way I'm pregnant. We're careful, we're getting married in September --”_

_“I'm sure you were careful,” the doctor says good-naturedly, and it registers with Blaine immediately that he's addressing both of them, which means he clearly doesn't believe that Blaine's only her friend --_

_“Oh my god,” Quinn snaps, irritated. “Okay, this -- Blaine. This is Blaine. He's my best friend from New York. He's gay. He's got a boyfriend. My fiance is actually in California. Can we move on?”_

_A flush creeps on the doctor's face but thankfully, he seems to take Quinn's outburst at face value and resumes the same calming, soothing tone. “Like I said, you were about eight weeks along, Ms. Fabray --”_

_Quinn opens her mouth to protest but Blaine tugs at her hand, his heart sinking. “Were,” he whispers quietly. He turns his attention to the doctor. “So she miscarried? Is that what you're saying?”_

_“Yes,” the doctor says finally. “I'm sorry, Ms. Fabray --”_

_“Can you go?” Quinn says suddenly. “I just -- I need to talk to Blaine. Can you go, please?”_

_“I -- of course,” the doctor says, taken aback. “I'll, um -- I'll be back in a little while, before they move you to a room. We want to keep you overnight --”_

_“Fine,” Quinn agrees. “Just -- go. Please.” When they're alone, she curls up into Blaine immediately. “Oh god,” she chokes out. “Oh god, oh god, ohgodohgod.”_

_“Quinn,” Blaine breathes back, wrapping his arms around her. “Honey, I'm so sorry --”_

_“Why?” she asks miserably, and Blaine feels shaking under his touch. “Why me? Why does this stuff always happen to me?”_

_“I don't know,” Blaine says, and he knows it's unhelpful but it's the truth and that's all he can offer her. “I -- you and Artie, have you talked about --”_

_“No,” Quinn admits. “I -- we only see each other three or four times during the school year, outside of summer and Christmas; we don't even have sex that often, it's only been three years. Why now?”_

_Blaine lets Quinn ramble, lets her sort out her thoughts, try to make sense of this mess. “There's no good reason for this,” he tells her. “Don't -- don't try and make it into something it's not. Don't blame yourself.”_

_“Is this punishment?” she asks miserably, and Blaine sighs, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “For Puck? For Beth? For --”_

_“No,” Blaine says fiercely. “This stuff just happens, Quinn. There isn't a reason for everything.”_

_“Yes, there is,” she disagrees. “And I --” She looks up at Blaine, eyes red and bloodshot, and grips at his shirt. “I've thought about it,” she admits. “If -- if anyone could make me want it, it'd be him.”_

_“You can still have that,” Blaine insists. “Quinn, I told you, right from the start --”_

_“I know,” she says quietly. “I know.” She hesitates, and then, “Do me a favor?”_

_“Anything,” Blaine promises, rubbing at her arms._

_“Don't tell Artie.”_

_Blaine inhales sharply. “Quinn --”_

_“Please,” she begs. “Please just -- just don't. I can't -- let me have a fresh start. We're getting married in September, we can do this right --”_

_“What about Kurt?” Blaine interjects. “You can't expect me to keep this from him --”_

_“He's in Paris,” Quinn reasons. “By the time you both get home next week, this will have all blown over and --”_

_“Quinn,” he says, shaking his head. “Don't. Don't ask me to do that. Don't ask me to lie to him. Don't ask me to keep this from him. I can't do that. I can't.”_

_She bites her lip and shivers, grabbing Blaine a little more tightly. “He's not allowed to tell Artie either,” she amends. “It's -- any which way, this can't get back to him. I can't handle -- Blaine, he'll be so disappointed --”_

_And it's then that Quinn starts to cry, finally, and Blaine does what she was meant to do; he gives her a shoulder to cry on._

*****

**June 2018: Northwest Hospital and Medical Center, Seattle, Washington**

By the time Blaine makes his way back out to the waiting room, he's exhausted and done talking, done listening. But when he looks up, a room full of people stare back, the entirety of New Directions --

Kurt's in front of him in an instant, eyes wide and hands twisting. Blaine meets his gaze and steadies himself, exhaling as his arms wrap around Kurt's waist, his chin falling to Kurt's shoulder. “'M so tired,” he mumbles.

“Come sit,” Kurt says immediately, leading him to a chair. “Can you -- tell us what happened. What's going on?”

Blaine rubs a hand over his face, inhaling sharply as he fights to gather his thoughts. “The baby's fine,” he finally starts. “Early and lungs are a little underdeveloped, but he's fine.”

“A boy?” Blaine looks over and finds Mercedes staring at him with shining eyes.

He nods. “Liam.” Mercedes starts to cry and Rachel moves from the seat next to her, kneeling on the floor and pulling Mercedes into a hug.

“How's Quinn?” The voice belongs to Santana, arms curled around Brittany.

Blaine inhales shakily. “I --” He stops and looks down at the floor, unable to stop himself from trembling. Kurt wraps a hand around Blaine's bicep, resting the other on Blaine's knee, and Blaine tries again. “Was she different, after she had Beth?”

Surprisingly, it's Brittany who answers. “Yeah,” she says thoughtfully. “Moody. Confusing. Not -- I felt like I lost a friend. She was a different person for a while.”

Kurt ducks his head down to meet Blaine's gaze. “Are you thinking postpartum depression?”

“Her doctor thinks it went undiagnosed and untreated, last time.”

“Last time?” Rachel repeats. “Are you saying --”

“They're not committing to it a hundred percent yet, but it's fairly obvious,” Blaine affirms. “And with everything she's just been through --”

Kurt bites his lip. “I haven't told them,” he says quietly. Blaine stares at him disbelievingly. “Rachel and I had them come out for Quinn, we couldn't -- it wasn't the sort of thing we wanted to say over the phone,” he tries to justify. “Plus, we were waiting for everyone to get here --”

“Who's missing?” Blaine asks.

“Finn --” Kurt starts, and then the waiting room door flies open and reveals Kurt's step-brother, on cue.

“I'm sorry,” Finn says in a rush. “It was impossible to get a flight out of DFW --”

Rachel's up off of the floor and away from Mercedes' side instantly, crossing the room in three quick strides and pulling Finn down into a heated kiss. Finn makes a noise of surprise but kisses her back; when they break apart, Rachel still clings to him. “Be with me,” she begs earnestly. “Just, stay with me. Promise me we'll stay together this time. Promise me we won't break up again. Just -- please.”

“I -- whoa.” Finn looks uneasy on his feet and can't seem to react or form any words; the rest of the room remains unfazed. They've lost count at this point.

Kurt sighs and turns back to Blaine. “And then Puck --”

“Puck won't come,” Blaine tells him. “You know he won't.”

Kurt's lip trembles and Blaine wants to hug him but he can't bring himself to do it, he's so tired, so he settles for squeezing Kurt's hand instead. “I know,” Kurt whispers brokenly. “I just wish --”

“We all wish,” Blaine agrees, running his thumb over Kurt's cheek, wiping the new tears that have fallen. “I can't do it,” Blaine says. “I can't. Can you --”

Kurt's thumb grazes over Blaine's jaw and they meet each others' eyes for a long moment before Kurt nods and turns to face the group. Kurt clears his throat, and then, “Artie didn't make it through the surgery.”

The silence in the room is deafening as eight pairs of eyes stare at Kurt and Blaine, disbelieving. “No,” Tina says in a low voice.

“Yes,” Rachel says as she settles into Finn's arms. Brittany is the first to start crying, long and loud and _hysterical_ , and then the room is wet with tears and Blaine watches as a collective group of hearts start to break; Quinn's face comes into view, broken and sad and hollow and grieving and empty, so _empty_ \--

Blaine shudders as he gives himself over to sobs again, and Kurt lets him curl up against his side, both crying steadily against each other. “Artie's gone,” he whispers against Kurt's ear. “Artie's gone and Quinn is broken, _broken_ , Kurt -- I don't know what to do --” Kurt opens his mouth to say something, console Blaine, who even knows at this point, but then the door swings open again --

All eleven of them stare at the newcomer with wide eyes, and then Rachel untangles herself from Finn's arms at the same time that Santana releases her hold on Brittany; the pair of them launch themselves at the tall figure, hitting every inch within reach. “ _Puckerman. You. Asshole!_ ”

“What are you doing here?” Mike asks, gaping.

“I called him.” As one, the group turns to look at Lauren who -- until this point -- has been sitting quietly in the corner. “Told him to come.”

“But _how_ \--” Tina starts.

Puck pushes his way past the feeble punches of Rachel and Santana and walks directly up to Blaine. “Where is she?”

Blaine meets his gaze steadily and, after a moment, pushes himself to his feet. “708. I'll take you to her.” Puck's out of the door again before anyone else can say a word.

Once Puck's gone into the room, Blaine slides to the floor outside, cradling his head in his hands. After a moment, Kurt settles down next to him, and suddenly the world seems a lot less crowded outside of the waiting room, less people, less chaos, less pain. Blaine's pain swallows him whole; he starts to cry again. “She's _devastated_ ,” he whimpers to Kurt. “She just lost her husband, the one person who loved her for who she is, she wouldn’t even _hold_ Liam -- Kurt, she feels so _alone_ , I can tell.”

“She's got you,” Kurt soothes, rubbing Blaine's arm. “She's got us. She's not alone.”

Blaine just hurts. He just _aches_. “That's not Quinn in there,” he says miserably, glancing over at the door. “She's in so much pain that she just shut down. She doesn't speak or look anyone in the eye or react to anything. She's empty. She's just... _gone_.” Kurt reaches out for him and Blaine purses his lips, fighting tears again. “And Liam -- god, _Liam_ \--”

“We'll help,” Kurt promises. “With Quinn and with Liam, we'll help. They all will.”

They're quiet for a few moments, sitting on the hospital floor and holding hands and letting their eyes run dry. Blaine is hesitant when he goes to break it. “If -- they said there was a chance, even with medication and therapy... They said she might not be able to take care of him.”

“She's going to get better, Blaine,” Kurt insists, and Blaine turns to look at him because Kurt sounds so _vehement_ , so fierce, so sure. “She will. She's not -- she wanted this baby. She'll get through this, for Artie.”

“But if she doesn't,” Blaine says gently, and he's never been more grateful for Kurt's optimism. “If she doesn't, they have to talk about what happens to Liam.”

Kurt bites his lip and draws his knees up to his chest. “What does happen to Liam?”

“If she can't take care of him, after Artie... It's me,” Blaine says quietly, and Kurt just stares at him. “Legally, she's got it all worked out, if she and Artie can't take care of him -- she wants me to do it.” Kurt still just stares at him, eyes wide, and Blaine's stomach twists into knots. “Kurt, please, say something, anything, just --”

“Okay,” Kurt breathes out steadily. “If that's -- okay.” Blaine can see him trembling and he looks _terrified_ but his words are the opposite of all of that.

“You don't have to do this,” Blaine whispers. “You don't have to put on a brave face for me. You can say no. We don't even know how much of a possibility this is yet --”

“No,” Kurt insists, and he looks more sure, more calm. “It's -- Quinn is our friend and you're my boyfriend and if -- if Liam has to become a part of our family, then okay.”

*****

**July 2011: Hummel Tires and Lube Garage, Lima, Ohio**

_“You sure you wouldn't rather be out with Kurt?” Burt asks, handing Blaine a rag to clean his hands on._

_Blaine -- adorning a worn pair of tattered coveralls over his Gap shirt -- takes the rag gratefully and shakes his head. “He's out shopping with Mercedes. They haven't seen each other in a few weeks and I think she's going through some stuff --”_

_“Hmm,” Burt hums. “It's just -- don't get me wrong, I like you, kid. But I kind of figured you'd have better things to do on your day off during your summer vacation than help your boyfriend's dad fix up cars.”_

_“Are you refusing the help?” is all Blaine says. “I mean, you lent me the coveralls, I know my way around --”_

_“You can stay,” Burt allows. “I'm just not sure why you're here.”_

_Blaine digs his hands into the pockets of the coveralls and shifts uncomfortably. “What do you need?”_

_Burt surveys him for a moment before sighing and resigning, pointing toward his toolbox. “Hand me that wrench, would you?”_

_Blaine obliges happily, leaning over the opposite end of the hood. “My car's making a funny sound,” he says after a while. “If I brought it in, would you look at it?”_

_“I thought you knew your way around a car,” Burt laughs._

_“I figured it was best left to an expert,” Blaine says sheepishly._

_“How's that job goin'?” Burt asks._

_“Good,” Blaine says amicably. “It's my second summer there, so it wasn't difficult to fall back into step -- like riding a bike, really.”_

_“How's that musical Kurt's working on? He's been out so often lately I've hardly had a chance to talk to him about it.”_

_Blaine smiles. “He got stuck, I think. Probably why he's been keeping himself busy, taking a break, trying to clear his head before going back to it.”_

_“Hand me that -- no, that one. The long stick thingy,” Burt says with a laugh._

_“Ugh,” Blaine groans, “my front as an awesome mechanic is fading fast, isn't it?”_

_“You're fine,” Burt assures him with a smile. “Not like you're actually working on the car anyway.”_

_“Hey!” Blaine replies indignantly, blushing. He bites his lip, and then, “Guess I won't be inheriting the family business then?” There's a pause and then Burt looks up at him, eyebrows raised. “Oh my god,” Blaine says, clamping a hand over his mouth. “No, I didn't -- I mean -- ugh.” He rests his head against the side of the car with a loud thunk._

_Burt turns his attention back to the car. “Garage goes to Kurt -- who will probably pass it off to one of the guys here -- but I think we can assume that means you too.”_

_Blaine blushes even brighter. “I --” he squeaks._

_“My kid's crazy about you,” Burt says with ease. “Any idiot can see that.” Blaine's heart full on stops and his mouth goes dry; before he can bring himself to speak, though, Burt continues, “He told me, you know.”_

_“Told you... what, exactly?” Blaine prompts, fidgeting with a cap under the hood of the car._

_“About the coffee shop,” Burt says casually. “Leave that alone,” he adds, gesturing to the cap Blaine's twisting._

_“Sorry,” Blaine apologizes, jumping back. “I -- the coffee shop?”_

_“Yeah,” Burt says, wiping his hands clean and surveying his work. “About what you said when he came back from New York.”_

_“I -- oh,” Blaine mumbles, flustered. He looks over at Burt cautiously but his boyfriend's dad is just smiling at him, clearly amused. Blaine nervously smiles back, and the moment passes. Blaine draws in a breath before admitting, “I felt like spending time around a real dad today.”_

_The smile disappears from Burt's face and he shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn't break eye contact. “Something, uh... something happen? Between you and your dad?”_

_“No,” Blaine starts, and then revises, “not really. It's just... my dad being my dad.”_

_Burt hmms in acknowledgment and turns his attention back to the car. “You know,” he says offhandedly, “family's what you make it. Kurt -- and Carole and Finn -- we're all family. But we've got more than that. Kurt- he's got those kids in glee club, they're his family too.” He glances up at Blaine for a second and Blaine can hear the unspoken words hanging between them: you're family too. “Carburetor,” Burt says abruptly, nodding toward the top of the toolbox._

_Blaine obliges with the request, carrying the heavy object carefully over to Burt, and leans on his elbows next to him, keeping his gaze trained on the inside of the car. “Thanks,” he says quietly._

_“Anytime,” Burt grunts, struggling with the part. “Listen, why don't you stay for dinner? Kurt'll be home.”_

_Blaine smiles. “Sure,” he agrees. “I'd like that.”_

*****

**June 2018: Abrams' Household, Seattle, Washington**

It's been three days, fifteen hours, and eleven minutes, and Quinn is still gone.

Well not gone, exactly. Technically, she's in her bedroom, curled up under sheets and comforters with a cold mug of tea on her nightstand and a vacant expression on her face. Liam sleeps in the guest bedroom with Kurt and Blaine. In town, Lauren has graciously put everyone up in hotel rooms and the members of New Directions take turns visiting during the day. Mike and Brittany have come every day, the others revolve in shifts. Well, except Tina. Tina stayed fifteen minutes the first day and then apologized to Kurt and told him she couldn't come back.

You never really get over your first love.

It's early, before dawn early, and Blaine wakes up blearily to an empty bed. There's a slight shushing sound coming from the baby monitor on the nightstand and Blaine groans, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There's a slight crying sound, and Blaine is reminded faintly of Liam, red-faced and squirming and new and in his arms --

Resigning, Blaine pushes himself from the bed and shuffles down the hall to the nursery where he figures Kurt has taken Liam. As he nears the door, however, the crying sounds have faded and there's a new sound in their place.

“ _Hush little baby, don't say a word; Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird._ ” Blaine's breath catches in his chest as Kurt's voice drifts quietly down the hallway. Gripping the edge of the door frame with tentative, shaking fingers, Blaine peers into the room.

Kurt bounces from one end of the room to the other gently, Liam cradled tightly against his chest. “ _And if that mockingbird don't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring_.” Blaine closes his eyes and grips the frame a little tighter because fuck, this is _not_ the time to be thinking about this, not the time to be making mental leaps and bounds and having visions of their future --

“ _And if that diamond ring is brass, Papa's gonna buy you a looking glass_ ,” Kurt continues softly, tucking a stray curl behind Liam's ear. Blaine watches them with fond eyes, resting his tired frame against the wall. “ _And if that looking glass gets broke, Papa's gonna buy you a billy goat..._ ”

Where the rest of that song might have gone, Blaine doesn't know. Kurt knows more lyrics than Blaine does, but it doesn't seem to matter because Kurt is cocking an eyebrow down at Liam, who is sleeping soundly against his chest. “Honestly, why would you buy your kid a billy goat? That's just ridiculous and impractical unless you live on a farm, and even then, it's not really a gesture...”

Blaine laughs quietly, he can't help himself, and Kurt looks up at him, surprised but pleased. “Hey,” he says softly, trying not to wake Liam. “You didn't have to get up, I got him --”

“I know,” Blaine says. “You've been really good about that, getting up with him.”

“You've gotten up just as many times,” Kurt reasons. Blaine shrugs, closing the space between them. He runs his fingers lightly over the top of Liam's head, marveling in its softness. “If we ever have kids,” Kurt says quietly, “I'd want a girl. I'd spoil her rotten.” Blaine looks up, heart in his throat --

Kurt meets his gaze and smiles, and there's a _moment_ \--

There's a knock at the front door, and Blaine shudders, trying to shake off his nerves.

Puck's the one at the front door, early and eager to take Liam off their hands or help plan the service, anything, really. And it's not that they don't appreciate it -- they do, all of them -- but they're stressed and grieving and...

Too many questions, not enough answers.

Puck moves toward the nursery but Blaine grabs his arm, holding it there firmly. Puck looks down with raised eyebrows. “No one's asked any questions,” Blaine murmurs. “And to be honest, I don't think anyone cares where you've been or why you disappeared off the face of the earth. They're just glad you're back. And I'm not going to give you grief, Puck, because you're here when Quinn clearly needs us, but if you answers anyone's questions, it should be mine.”

“Don't do this to yourself,” Puck murmurs. “Just leave it alone.”

He starts to tug his arm from Blaine's grasp but Blaine tightens his hold. “Answers, Puck. Now.” Puck's eyes widen and he swallows and Blaine thinks he sees, for the first time, fear. “Where have you been?”

Puck meets Blaine's gaze for several long moments before he says anything, and when he actually provides _answers_ , it takes Blaine by surprise. “Everywhere,” Puck says with a sigh. “I never stay in any one place too long. I'm always on the move. I try to stay under the radar.”

“You're good at that,” Blaine supplies, still holding onto Puck's arm; the answers aren't good enough yet.

“I've been in Miami the last couple of months,” Puck finally tells him.

“And Lauren knows how to get hold of you how, exactly?” Blaine presses.

“She's got my cell number,” Puck explains indifferently. “I've got one for business and one for personal use. Admittedly, I don't turn the second one on that often.”

“Obviously.” Blaine releases his grip on Puck's arm. “So why all the secrets? Why go silent?” Puck shakes his head, but Blaine mirrors the gesture, adamant. “Puck, _talk to me_. You came back for a reason and I get that but I can't let you near her if you're just going to disappear again. She can't handle that.”

Puck gives him a once over before saying, “She really means a lot to you, doesn't she?”

“She's my best friend,” Blaine says, like its the plainest thing in the world. And it is. It's been just that simple since she spent the night in his driveway while Kurt met his parents.

Puck swallows, there's a beat, and then, “I've been on the run.” Blaine closes his eyes and has flashbacks to Kurt's stories -- _Puck's been in juvie so many times I think they actually expect him once a month or something_ \-- and tries not to imagine the worst. “I may have... gotten into a little bit of trouble with some loan sharks.”

Blaine sucks in a breath and _fuck_ , okay, _this_ is why Puck didn't want to tell him anything, because this shit is _serious_ and by shutting them out, he's been keeping them safe. And now Blaine's gone and made himself unsafe, and all he can think about is Kurt, Kurt and Quinn and Liam -- “How much?” Blaine asks finally.

“In total? Thirty grand.” Blaine leans against the counter and rubs his temple with his fingers, groaning. “I paid off most of it, man, I swear. I'm just a little short.”

“How little is a little, Puck?”

“Five Gs.” Blaine shakes his head because he doesn't even know where to start or what to do but he knows that if Puck leaves again, disappears without a word, the thin threads that tie their group together are going to fray even more and probably break, and Quinn -- god, he doesn't want to even think about what it would do to Quinn. But Quinn doesn't even really know that Puck's here, doesn't really know anything, doesn't take in anything, and --

Blaine grips the edge of the kitchen counter hard. “And you disappeared because, what? They gave you a deadline you couldn't meet?”

“Basically,” Puck says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Listen, dude, I'm here now. I'm here and I want to help --”

“Help?” Blaine parrots incredulously, his voice dangerously low. “You think you're _helping_ , showing up here when you've got loan sharks after you? Quinn just had a _baby_ , for crying out loud.”

“I want to help,” Puck says again, a little more desperately. “Look, I screwed up with her big time. I owe her.”

“Who are you here for?” Blaine asks bluntly. “Quinn's the one who needs us but you're here because Lauren called you. You've been with every girl in that room except for Tina, Puck. Who are you really here for?” When Puck doesn't answer, Blaine shakes his head. “Go. Just -- go get groceries. There's a list on the refrigerator.”

Sighing, Blaine his the 'on' button on the coffee maker and makes his way to the master bedroom; a half hour is not enough time to wake up, take care of an infant, skate around the subject of marriage and children, and deal with Puck's illicit drama. He needs to escape.

Quietly, he slips under the covers and curls up next to a still sleeping Quinn. He watches her sleep for a few minutes before she shifts and inhales, eyes fluttering slightly. She starts to go back to sleep but then blinks again, meeting Blaine's gaze. “Blaine?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says quietly. “Go back to sleep.”

But Quinn blinks again, and the look in her eyes isn't one of recognition. It's almost like she doesn't even know who he is. “Blaine.”

“Yeah, honey, it's me,” Blaine repeats, fighting back tears. “We've been here a few days. I'm not going anywhere.” Blaine reaches over, fingertips brushing against the inside of her wrist; slowly, he extends his fingers, unhinging the knuckles, weaving his fingers into Quinn's. His skin is tingling against hers but she doesn't seem affected by his touch.

“Blaine,” she questions again, and Blaine can practically hear the cogs in her head whirring, trying to reconnect with the world; it's a steady _click, click, click_ but it always falls short of granting her comprehension. Blaine opens his mouth again to try and get her to go back to sleep --

Quinn reaches her free hand forward, grabbing around to the nape of Blaine's neck, fingers playing with the hair that plays there. And for one wild moment, Blaine thinks she's going to kiss him --

Her fingers reach up further, tangling in his hair; she tightens her grip, tugging firmly on the curls, almost as if she's trying to anchor herself there --

The gasp that leaves her mouth sends Blaine recoiling slightly, but the way Quinn's face lights up and then pales is enough to draw him back. “Blaine,” she gasps. “ _Blaine_.”

“Quinn?” Blaine prompts, reaching for her hand again. She lets go of him immediately and starts shaking _violently_ , tears rushing down her face. “Honey, what is it?”

“No,” she breathes out, tears dripping off the edge of her nose. “No, no, _no_. Artie --”

“Oh, Quinn.” Blaine moves forward and tugs her into his arms and she falls into him without resistance; her hands clutch at his shirt and her tears soak through and she just can't stop _crying_. “It's okay,” he tries to soothe. “You _need_ to cry.”

She cries for several long moments and Blaine rubs his hands up and down her back, over her arms, smoothing her hair. “He's -- Ar -- my husband,” she cries quietly. “My husband is _gone_.”

Blaine closes his eyes and cries quietly into Quinn's hair. “I know how much it hurts, honey, I know.”

“And he, he never even got --” she blubbers, and then she pulls back suddenly; Blaine can tell she's trying to stem her tears but she _can't_. “Liam,” she chokes out. “Where is he? Is he -- is he okay?”

“He's okay,” Blaine reassures her, meeting her gaze steadily. “He's with Kurt and Puck right now.”

Quinn blinks, eyes widening. “He -- Puck? Puck's here?”

Blaine swallows. “Yeah. They all are.”

Quinn settles back onto her pillow but still allows Blaine to half-hold her and now that she's coherent, now that she's awake and connected and thinking and _feeling_ , she can't seem to stop; her system seems to be playing catch-up, trying to register too much too fast. “I can't plan a service,” she says wearily. “I just -- I can't. I can't even take care of Liam -- I feel awful...”

“Don't worry about it,” Blaine cuts in, massaging her shoulder. “We're all taking turns with Liam and Kurt's got the service covered. We're holding it on Saturday. Your in-laws and your mom fly in Friday night. Finn's going to pick them up at the airport. You don't have to worry about a thing.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, clutching at Blaine's shirt again. “I'm so tired. Why am I so tired?”

“Go back to sleep,” Blaine encourages, pulling the duvet back over her shoulder. “I'll wake you later so you can take your meds.” Quinn bites her lip apprehensively and Blaine continues rubbing at her shoulder, trying to relax her. “We'll still be here when you wake up again.”

*****

**June 2013: Anderson Household, Westerville, Ohio**

_“Do you want help moving these into the house?” Kurt offers, gesturing to Blaine's boxes on the lawn._

_Blaine shrugs. “I think I can manage. I know you're anxious to get home and see your dad.”_

_“Hmm,” Kurt muses. “Yes, but...”_

_“But what?” Blaine laughs._

_Kurt turns quickly, grabbing Blaine by the shirt and forcing him against the car. “If I don't stay for awhile now, I'm not going to see you again until Monday.”_

_Blaine's chest heaves. “That's three days from now,” he points out breathlessly and okay, wow, when did Kurt's lips get so close?_

_“Three days is too long,” Kurt says dismissively, closing the gap between them. And then Kurt's hands are everywhere at once, roaming up and down Blaine's sides and chest and arms. Blaine sinks back against the side of the car and fists Kurt's collar, returning the kiss in equal fervor, and just when he begins to think that maybe they should get back in the car --_

_“Clearly, I'm interrupting something.”_

_They break apart, Kurt rather reluctantly, and turn to find Quinn leaning against the front of her car, an amused smile on her face. Blaine's heart leaps in his chest and somehow Kurt feels it and releases him. Blaine's over to her in three quick bounds, whisking her into his arms and squeezing her tightly. “Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, fuck, I missed you.”_

_Quinn is laughing into his shoulder but she settles her arms around him and lowers her voice. “I missed you too.” She waits a moment, and then teases, “Okay, seriously, you should let me go. Your boyfriend looks neglected.”_

_Blaine pulls away and glances over at Kurt, who does not look neglected, thank you very much. Kurt's actually smiling and it's only a few seconds before he crosses the space between them to hug Quinn. “Hey,” he greets quietly._

_“Hey yourself,” she says back. “Thanks for texting me to let me know you guys were here.”_

_“We wanted to see you,” Kurt enthuses, and suddenly Blaine has had enough._

_“Okay, okay, my turn,” he cuts in, tugging at Kurt's arm._

_“She's my friend too,” Kurt points out, but then Blaine is pulling him into his arms and Kurt settles into the embrace embarrassingly. “Oh.”_

_“Come in for lunch,” Blaine says to Quinn. “You can help me unpack. Kurt's staying for a while.”_

_“I am?” Kurt laughs._

_“Yes,” Blaine says simply. “You are.” Quinn smiles and shakes her head but takes Blaine's proffered arm and accompanies them into the house._

_“So,” Blaine starts once they're in his old bedroom, unpacking boxes, “I think you still owe me some sordid details.”_

_Quinn groans at the same time Kurt asks, “Wait, what?”_

_“When you showed up at my room after our fight last week,” Blaine says, “I was on the phone with Quinn. And she was in Berkeley.”_

_“Why?” Kurt says. “You would've seen Artie this week -- ohmygod.”_

_“My reaction almost exactly,” Blaine laughs._

_“No,” Quinn disagrees. “I believe your reaction was much more colorful.”_

_“You're deflecting,” Blaine points out. “Come on, details!”_

_“At least tell us why,” Kurt begs._

_Quinn's quiet for a moment, folding one of Blaine's cardigans, before a small smile plays at her lips. “I showed up at his room late and was a total wreck.” she says quietly. “My hair was a mess and my make-up was smudged and I was exhausted. And he just... he looked so happy to see me, like... like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.” She blushes a little and tucks the cardigan into the dresser. “I'm comfortable with him. I trust him. I -- I want this to work out.”_

_Blaine shakes his head. “I honestly didn't think you'd do it,” he admits. “I figured you'd wait for your wedding night this time around --”_

_“If you like it, then you should've put a ring on it,” Kurt teases. Blaine glances over at him to avoid Quinn's knowing smile, but that turns out to be just as bad of a choice because Kurt is smiling and -- fuck, why doesn't he just ask him right now?_

_The moment passes, though, when Quinn says bitterly, “No point. I'm already tainted in the eyes of the church --”_

_“Hey,” Blaine cuts in, refocusing, “no. I'm not gonna let you do that. Just stop right now. You are not damaged goods. You're not.” Quinn bites her lip and leans against the iron bed frame, and all Blaine wants to do is go over there and hug her._

_Kurt beats him to it. “Hey,” he says gently, slinging an arm around Quinn's shoulders. “He would've waited, you know. Artie. If -- if you'd decided you wanted to wait, he would've been okay with that. He -- he really cares about you.”_

_Blaine stands and watches them, watches as Kurt squeezes Quinn closer and she offers him a small smile and god. Blaine really does have it made._

_“Sandwiches,” Mr. Anderson says, appearing suddenly with a plate. “I made a few extra, since there are three of you.”_

_Kurt and Quinn offer thanks but Blaine has other things on his mind. “Dad, can -- do you care if Kurt stays tonight?”_

_It's an uncomfortable moment but Blaine meets his father's gaze steadily. He's nineteen and has been intimate with Kurt for over a year; he's fairly certain his dad knows this, especially since they practically lived with each other in the residence halls. Finally, George Anderson shifts his weight from one leg to the other and shrugs. “I suppose that's okay.” He drops his gaze and rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. “At least you're not getting anyone pregnant,” he mutters._

_Blaine's gaze immediately flicks to Quinn, whose face has colored considerably. “I think,” Quinn says abruptly, “I'm think I'll get going.”_

_Kurt's eyes are sad and Blaine doesn't know how to fix this and his father is just so confused -- “Was it --” Mr. Anderson starts. “Did I say something?”_

_“No,” Quinn says through gritted teeth. “I just -- I have a thing, with Mercedes -- I'm gonna --”_

_Blaine reaches out and grabs her arm as she moves to the door. “Quinn.”_

_She meets his eyes, wide and wet and sad and lonely, but forces a smile onto her face. “I'll come back tomorrow,” she promises. “If -- if that's okay,” she checks, turning to Mr. Anderson._

_“You're always welcome,” he says good-naturedly, clearly still confused._

_“I'll see you in the morning,” Quinn says. She pauses in the doorway, inhaling, and then turns back, a playful smile on her face. “Maybe I'll finally get to see Kurt's pajamas. Mercedes says they're majestic.”_

_Blaine snorts and laughs; Kurt glares at him. “Give 'Cedes my love and remind her that we're going shopping after she gets out of church on Sunday.” Quinn smiles and nods, laughing affectionately, and allows Mr. Anderson to escort her downstairs._

_Kurt crosses the room and starts to fold another cardigan, jaw set. Blaine slinks up and wraps his arms around Kurt's waist, nuzzling his nose into Kurt's neck. “I love your pajamas.” Kurt hmms but seems to soften under Blaine's touch. “But if I'm being honest -- and we're always honest,” he reminds Kurt, “I much prefer you out of them.”_

_When Quinn arrives late the next morning, Kurt has to scramble to find his pajamas._

*****

**June 2018: Abrams' Household, Seattle, Washington**

After the service, Blaine settles onto the couch and watches as Artie's family and friends and co-workers mingle, passing along glasses of alcohol and tissues alike. The mood is muted. Kurt, surprisingly, is curled up in a corner near the fireplace with an arm slung around Mike. The former dancer has remained mostly quiet since Kurt broke the news, but Blaine thinks he's finally starting to see the edges crack as he lets Kurt embrace him.

There's a new presence at Blaine's side but he doesn't have to look to know who it is; he stiffens and clutches his glass more tightly. It's quiet for a moment before the newcomer says, “The service was lovely.”

Blaine debates whether or not to respond, to even acknowledge her presence, but his loyalty to Quinn gets the better of him and he sighs, turning to face Judy Hamilton. “That was all Kurt.”

“I thought so,” she says. “Quinny's always said he had good taste. And that he's... kind.” 'Moral, compassionate,' Blaine finishes internally. They sit in silence again until finally she continues, “She seems happy that her friends are here --”

“What do you want, Ms. Hamilton?” Blaine asks abruptly. She blinks, startled. “Enough with the games and the small talk. What is it that you want?”

Judy shifts uncomfortably, glancing over to where Puck reclines, rocking Liam gently, and then to Quinn, who is perched on a bar stool in the kitchen with Tina and Brittany. She inhales, and then, “I think I owe you an apology.”

Blaine arches his eyebrows and blinks. “Excuse me?”

She sighs and sets her drink down on the coffee table, tucking one leg under the other and turning to face him. “I don't expect your forgiveness, or for you to even like me. But... I see what you've all done for her, what you've both -- what _you_ have done for her. I see how much you mean to her.”

“And what?” Blaine says slowly, fighting to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You didn't see that before?”

“I wouldn't let myself see it,” she admits, and Blaine slackens his grip on his glass. “But -- you seem to really understand her. And what you've done here -- you've moved heaven and earth for her and the baby...”

“She's my best friend,” Blaine says quietly. “She's been there for me when I needed her most. If anything, I owe her, but that's not why I -- we did this.”

“I know,” Judy says, nodding. “I just -- I thought it'd be a good idea if you and I were at least on speaking terms. You know, for Liam.”

Blaine's jaw twitches. “And it's not going to bother you, what I am -- who I am? Who I'm in love with?”

She inhales sharply and reaches out for her drink again, raising the glass. She considers him for a moment, and then says, “Love is love.” Blaine feels the tension dissolve from his body and somehow she must sense that because she looks encouraged and barrels on. “Quinn... Quinn has always been a very progressive thinker. She's very accepting and... Well, it's a little hypocritical of me not to be the same when I wanted her to come home after her father kicked her out.” She blushes, and Blaine can't bring himself to speak. “I'm sorry, Blaine.”

It's the use of his name that breaks him. Blaine reaches over tentatively and brushes her hand with his; they touch for the smallest of seconds, and then Judy is pulling away briskly, rising from the couch and smoothing out her dress. “I think,” she says resolutely, “I'll go offer my compliments to your... partner.” She chooses the last word carefully, hesitantly, almost as if she's trying to be politically correct.

Blaine's lips twist a little. “Kurt,” he reminds her. “You can call him by his name.”

“Yes, well,” she says briskly, visibly flustered. “Your... Kurt. And then I'll see if I can't wrestle my grandson away from --” She stops, eyes clouding darkly, and for a moment Blaine wonders what she calls Puck, if she's above mentioning his past with Quinn. But Judy doesn't speak again, and with a polite nod, she leaves him alone on the couch.

The seat next to him hasn't been vacant for more than twenty seconds before Quinn settles into it, eyes anxious. “What did my mom say to you?” she presses. “Because I swear, Blaine, if she gave you any grief, I will --”

“It's fine,” Blaine assures her, swirling the ice in his glass. “She, um... She actually apologized.”

“She -- what?” Quinn asks disbelievingly.

“I know,” Blaine says, and he can't help laughing. “Only took her seven years, right?” Quinn regards him with a cautious eye, still uneasy, and Blaine tilts his head to the side, offering her a small smile. “I'm okay,” he promises. “I just -- a lot's happened this week.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees quietly. “It has.” Her gaze falls to a framed picture on the coffee table of her and her late husband on their wedding day, faces lit with smiles.

Blaine reaches for her hand. “How are you holding up?”

She shrugs, but the fact that she's talking, that she's _listening_ is a feat in and of itself. Blaine glances over at Liam, now nestled in his grandmother's arms, and smiles a little. “He makes this better,” Quinn offers, following Blaine's gaze.

“Yeah,” Blaine says distractedly, his gaze shifting to Kurt. “He does.”

Quinn follows his eyes and when they find his new object, she smiles. “I owe Kurt,” she says. “Big time.”

Blaine shakes his head. “I wouldn't bother,” he tells her. “He won't accept payment of any kind. Just say thank you and let it go.”

“He planned my -- He planned Artie's funeral,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “He's been here all week, helping you -- us -- with Liam --”

“It's what he wanted,” Blaine explains. “He -- Kurt doesn't like to dwell on the pain. Doing all this -- that's what helps him.”

Quinn nods, and when she shifts her gaze from Kurt to Blaine, her eyes are welling with tears. Blaine leans forward to embrace her but she's too quick for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and huffing out loudly. “Promise me,” she says shakily, “promise me you won't wait too long.” Blaine's lips purse because he knows what Quinn's talking about but he can't go there, he can't explain _why_ he keeps waiting --

She pulls back, meets his eyes, and says, rather firmly, “You've waited long enough. You can't stay here forever.”

Blaine reaches out to cover her hand with his. “I don't want to leave you alone until you're ready.”

“I'm getting better,” Quinn insists. “I'm never going to be a hundred percent and yeah, for a while, I'm going to need some help. But you can't stay here forever. You and Kurt have a life in New York. My mom's here,” she adds hesitantly, but the fact gives her argument strength so she sticks with it.

“Liam is your son,” Blaine reminds her. “ _Your_ son. Your mom may be trying to turn a new leaf but -- you're the one who decides how to raise him, okay? I just don't want you to forget that.”

“I know,” Quinn says. There's a pause, and then, “Lauren told me about Puck.”

Blaine's breath catches in his chest. “What did she say... exactly?”

“Just that he had to pay his dues,” Quinn says vaguely, and Blaine breathes a little easier. “And then she whipped out her checkbook and went to find him.”

Blaine's heart floods with affection for Lauren. “So is Puck staying, then?”

Quinn bites her lip, surveying Blaine's face apprehensively, before she answers, “Yes.” Blaine sighs but Quinn reaches out for his arm, desperate to explain. “It's not permanent,” she insists. “I -- Artie...” There's a sadness in her eyes again and Blaine tugs her against his chest, letting her settle there comfortably. “It's a wake-up call for all of us,” she says quietly. “We all just want to make things right. That's why Finn and Rachel got back together, right?” she reasons.

Blaine cards his fingers through her hair, eyes lingering on Kurt's frame. “Probably.”

“So here's your chance,” she whispers, squeezing his knee. “Take it.”

*****

**September 2016: St. Luke's Lutheran Church, Lima, Ohio**

_“Hey,” Blaine greets quietly, shutting the door behind him. “I just saw Finn seat your mom in the front pew, thought I'd see if you needed anything else before your big moment.”_

_Quinn smiles at him through the reflection in the mirror, beckoning him over. “Zip me up, will you? Did she say anything to you?”_

_“No,” Blaine sighs, working to zip up the back of Quinn's dress. “But I didn't expect her to. I figure if we avoid each other the rest of the day then everything will go smoothly.”_

_“I'm sorry,” Quinn says quietly._

_“Don't be,” Blaine cuts in. “She's your mom, she wants to be here, you want her here. It's -- you aren't responsible for the way she thinks and acts.” He pauses, and then, “It's your wedding day. I just want you to be happy, okay? Don't stress out about it.” After a moment, Quinn smiles slightly and nods, staring resolutely at her reflection. “You're nervous,” Blaine says. It's not a question._

_“Pre-wedding jitters, I'll be fine,” she dismisses._

_Blaine smiles softly and starts to rearrange the flowers in her hair. “Did you ever think you'd actually marry him?”_

_Quinn looks thoughtful. “I don't know,” she laughs after a minute. “I mean, I've known for a while that's what I want, but --”_

_“An unlikely pairing,” Blaine finishes, grinning. “You're good for each other.”_

_“He's good for me,” Quinn says, and there's so much right and wrong with that statement that begs to be addressed but Blaine lets it go. “He makes this better. It's -- this isn't a fairytale. It's real.”_

_Blaine moves to stand in front of her now, sweeping her bangs out of her face, and smiles fondly. “You look like a princess to me.”_

_Quinn attempts to fight back a smile and fails. “Can I ask a favor of you?” she says quietly._

_“You know you can,” Blaine placates, adjusting the clasp of her necklace._

_“Will you give me away?”_

_Blaine looks up and meets her eyes and there it is again, same and strong as always, that something almost tangible hanging between them. He blinks and clears his throat and can't help the color that rises on his neck and face. “Um, yeah,” he coughs. “Yeah, if that's what you --”_

_“It's what I want,” she assures him. “If anyone had the right to give me away, it'd be you.” Blaine inhales sharply and reaches out for her arm to steady himself. “Hey,” she laughs gently. “Stop. You can't cry on me because then I'm going to start crying and my make-up with be ruined --”_

_“Oh god, we can't have that happening,” Blaine teases back, but he's more composed now._

_She reaches up to straighten Blaine's tie before venturing, “I thought this would be you.”_

_Blaine cocks an eyebrow in amusement. “You thought what would be me? You thought you and I would be getting married?” he teases. “Or you thought I'd be the one in a church in a white dress?”_

_“Stop,” she laughs, batting him on the chest. “You know what I meant. I thought you and Kurt would've been in this position ages ago.”_

_Blaine's quiet for a minute. “I'm just waiting for the right time,” he tries to explain. “It's -- we just graduated from college and I've still got a year before I get my teaching credential and I just --” He sighs, annoyed that the product in his hair prevents him from running his hands through it. “Planning the wedding is going to be a big deal for Kurt. For both of us, but especially for Kurt. And I want him to have the time to do it without something else coming up.”_

_“Blaine,” Quinn says reasonably, fingers tracing his lapel. “Something is always going to come up. Life is going to come up. Stuff happens. Whether you're in between jobs or someone dies or it's something else, life still happens. People grow up, people graduate. People get married and have babies.” She looks up to meet his eyes. “Don't wait forever,” she pleads. “You and Kurt -- you're...”_

_“I know,” Blaine says quietly, and they might as well be seventeen again, curled up in Blaine's bedroom, just starting out._

_And then, standing at the back of the church, Blaine says, “You ready for this?”_

_Quinn nods, and it's only when the double doors open and they look out into the crowd that Blaine knows she's sure. Quinn's eyes find Artie immediately, perched in his wheelchair at the altar (and somewhere stashed away, Blaine knows, is Artie's ReWalk, ready to help him stand and marry the girl he's been waiting for, and then dance with her at their reception). A smile lights up her face and she breathes out easily; the weight is gone, and she doesn't need glasses to see clearly any more._

_As he walks her down the aisle, Kurt comes into clearer focus in the front row, beaming at them; Blaine's stomach drops out. 'One day, I'm going to marry you,' he thinks. 'One day, this will be us.'_

*****

**June 2018: Abrams' Household, Seattle, Washington**

“Hey.”

Blaine looks up from the bed and smiles at the sight of Kurt toweling his hair dry and wearing - Blaine notes fondly - one of Blaine's henleys. “Hey,” he greets warmly, setting his reading glasses down on top of his book. Kurt sits across from him and leans in, resting his cheek on Blaine's shoulder. “You're smiling,” Blaine points out.

“I'm happy,” Kurt hums.

“Really?” Blaine asks tentatively, running a hand up and down Kurt's back.

“Really,” Kurt says with a laugh; he shifts to look up at Blaine. “I have every reason to be. Our friends are here. Quinn and Liam are okay, we're alive, I've got _you_...” He looks wistful for a moment but the smile doesn't disappear and suddenly Blaine is _breathless._

“You are the most amazing person I've ever known,” Blaine breathes, and Kurt flushes. “You should be stricken with _grief_ \--”

“I'm not going to let it swallow me,” Kurt reminds him.

“Still,” Blaine insists, “you've been amazing this week. You handled your own grief and planned the service and helped out with Quinn and Liam and --” He fumbles over his words a little, running a hand through his hair. “I love you,” he says softly. “And I don't --” He stops, swallowing thickly, and he knows his voice is betraying the tears he doesn't want to shed. “I don't know what I'd do without you.” He reaches down and thumbs along Kurt's jawline. “I can't lose you.” Kurt reaches up and tugs him down into a kiss, and even before they break apart, Blaine is breathing against him, “Let me take care of you, for a change.”

“You already do,” Kurt breathes against him, and then Blaine is pulling back and Kurt is sitting up and they're face to face. “I can't even imagine what my life would be like if I hadn't met you when I did, what _I_ would be like.”

Blaine shakes his head. “You take such good care of me.”

“I _like_ taking care of you,” Kurt says simply. “I always have. I --” He hesitates, blushing again, before continuing, “I'm always going to want to.” And there's such a _warmth_ in Kurt's eyes, such a fondness and admiration, that Blaine can't help himself.

And there it is, right in front of him again, that ache and desire and _need_ for Kurt and no one else because no one else will do. No one else knows him as intimately, no one else is as patient, no one else _loves_ him as unconditionally. Quinn is something else entirely, and after this week, after Artie and Quinn and Liam and -- _whoa_ , okay, Blaine can't get ahead of himself, he hasn't even _asked_ Kurt yet. But that's the point, isn't it? That's always been the point. He can ask. He should ask. He _wants_ to ask. And if there were ever a _moment_ \--

“Will you marry me?”

Blaine smiles warmly and then blinks rapidly because wait -- he's not sure if he said that aloud or not. His smile falters and he inhales loudly, trying to work up the courage to say it -- for the first time or maybe again, Blaine's not sure --

But then Kurt is _babbling_ , words rushing out of him in a justifying tone and okay, maybe Blaine _did_ say it out loud. “I know you're thinking it's because of Artie,” Kurt says, “but it's not, I swear.”

And now Blaine is seriously confused. “Wait, what?”

Kurt meets his gaze, startled, and then looks away again, shifting awkwardly. “I love you,” he says softly. “I've known what I wanted for a long time. This isn't -- I've been trying to work up the nerve for so long --”

“Wait, wait,” Blaine cuts in. “Did -- _did you just ask me to marry you?_ ”

Kurt's brow furrows in confusion, and then he bites his lip and looks up at Blaine through long lashes, shrugging one shoulder. “Yeah,” he says simply. “I did.”

“I --” Blaine can't _breathe_. “Wait, _what_?”

“Come on, Blaine,” Kurt says earnestly, and he's almost pleading at this point. “You -- haven't you thought about this? Like, at all? We've been together for over seven years... Didn't -- don't you want this? Don't you want me?”

“Of course I do,” Blaine rushes out. “Of course I want you. I just... _wow_.”

A smile plays at the corner of Kurt's mouth and he straightens, still shy but much more self-assured. “Wait,” he says. “Let me -- let me do this right.”

And then -- oh god, he's _getting down on one knee_ and _where did that box come from?_ and _this isn't happening_. “Blaine, will you --”

“Shut up,” Blaine breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just... oh my god, get up here.”

Kurt ambles back onto the bed without grace, twisting his fingers nervously. “I don't understand --”

“Get over here and kiss me, you idiot.” Kurt blinks, and then his mouth is on Blaine's in an instant, hot and wet and _wanting_ \--

“So is that a yes?” Kurt mumbles against him.

Blaine pulls away just long enough to answer. “I've wanted to ask you that for almost seven years,” he says, and Kurt pulls back, eyes wide. “Of course that's a yes.” Blaine tugs Kurt back in for another kiss, hands cupping Kurt's face and _gripping_ with force, and suddenly they're _fused_ together in the best possible way, the way they were always meant to be.

“I love you,” Kurt gasps against him, clutching at Blaine's neck and shoulders.

“I know,” Blaine answers. He's always known. Kurt tugs him down so that Blaine's splayed full across his body; when Blaine's fingers make their way underneath the henley to dance at Kurt's hipbone, Kurt gasps and arches up into the touch -- a response that still sends a thrill through Blaine's system even after more than six years. Kurt's hips buck up against Blaine's --

“Clearly, I'm interrupting something.”

Blaine breaks the kiss and buries his face into Kurt's shoulder, laughing quietly. Kurt, on the other hand, reacts much more directly, huffing in annoyance. “Yes, you are,” he whines, but there's a note of teasing in his voice and it makes Quinn comfortable to enter the room and settle herself in the rocking chair next to the bed. When Blaine rights himself and looks over at her, he notices that she's holding Liam. “How are you feeling?” Kurt asks.

“Okay,” Quinn says; Blaine notes that she looks tired, still, but she's smiling as she looks down at Liam and _okay_ is as good as it's going to get right now. Really, it's more than Blaine expected or hoped for. “What are you boys up to, other than the obvious?” she asks lightly, cooing down at her son.

Blaine's breath catches and he looks to Kurt, silently asking for permission. Kurt smiles and nods his assent, and Blaine takes his hand, pulling it to rest over his own knee in front of Quinn. Quinn looks down briefly and catches the band adorning Blaine's finger. She stares for a moment, expression blank, and then, slowly, a smile lights up her face. “Well,” she laughs quietly. “I don't know if I'm surprised or not.”

“I was,” Blaine admits, grinning.

“Yeah, well, that's because you've been psyching yourself up to do it all these years,” Quinn throws back, smiling playfully over Kurt.

“You should have seen his face,” Kurt teases, causing Blaine to whack him lightly on the arm.

“I bet it was pretty fantastic,” Quinn agrees, glancing over at Blaine. They hold the gaze for a moment, and then Quinn reaches a hand over to rest on top of Blaine's. “I'm happy for you, I am,” she says, and Blaine doesn't need convincing. She's been in his corner and urging him toward this since his first admission in his bedroom nearly seven years ago. “I'm going to change him one last time and put him down to bed,” she says, withdrawing her hand. “And then we can celebrate. I think there's wine in the kitchen somewhere, for you two.”

She leans over and kisses Blaine on the cheek, lips feather-light against his skin, and repeats the gesture to Kurt, before rising from the bed. Liam captures her attention, and as she leaves the room, she starts to sing quietly. “ _Just a closer walk with thee. Grant it, Jesus, is my plea._ ”

“I forgot how pretty Quinn's voice is,” Kurt murmurs, curling up into Blaine again. “I haven't heard her sing in ages.”

“ _Daily walking close to thee. Let it be, dear Lord, let it be._ ”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees, settling back into the pillows and pulling Kurt against his chest. “She's beautiful.”

“ _I am weak but thou art strong. Jesus, keep me from all wrong._ ”

“She'll be okay,” Kurt says, answering Blaine's silent question. “Listen to her: she's singing.”

“ _I'll be satisfied as long as I walk. Let me walk close to thee._ ”

“Yeah,” Blaine says with a smile, pressing his lips to Kurt's forehead as his ears capture Quinn's voice. “Yeah, she is.”


End file.
